Away From the Sun
by Unwritten.25
Summary: ON HIATUS. Slash. LotRHP crossover. AU. Gandalf meets a stranger on top of Isenguard and the entire journey of the Fellowship changes.
1. Isenguard and Rivendell

**Summary:** Gandalf meets a stranger on top of Isenguard. Will the classic story we all know so well change with the addition of one person?

**Pairings:** Harry/Legolas, Aragorn/Arwen, Faramir/Eowyn, Sam/Frodo, one-sided Eowyn/Aragorn, and Legolas/Aragorn.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Lord of the Rings_ or _Harry Potter_, but I do loan their characters occasionally. JRR and JK will get them back safe and sound, so no worries.

**Warnings:** This is a **SLASH** story, which means there will be **guys on guys**. There will be **violence**, **swearing**, and some **mature content** (which means **sex** people). Unwritten will **butcher Lord of the Rings** because it's _not_ her fandom and she will probably suck at writing it. This story is completely from **Movie-verse**. Characters may be **OOC**. If anything of the above irritates/disgusts you, then you're free to leave.

**Author's Notes:** My sister invited me to watch the extended versions of the Lord of the Rings at her church for three Fridays in a row, and this was born. You've all seen this before (Lord knows _I_ have), but hopefully you'll find something new in this. –sheepishly- I know I shouldn't be starting _yet another_ story, but I couldn't help myself (as always).

* * *

**Away From the Sun  
****Chapter One: Isenguard and Rivendell**

There are some men in this world who are born to do our unpleasant jobs for us. (To Kill a Mockingbird movie)

Kings really _were_ bigger than other people, and sometimes – a lot of times – he wished he was smaller. If you have ever in your life had serious questions about whether you were good enough for some task, then you will know how he felt. (The Eyes of the Dragon by Stephen King)

Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets. (Paul Tournier)

Behind every beautiful thing there is some kind of pain. (Bob Dylan)

"But to change the path ahead is a very difficult task. The smallest word, the tiniest motion, that which lies in people's hearts . . . . The future takes all these things as its cues to determine the path to come. Just like ripples on the water's surface." (Tomoyo, Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles)

* * *

**Isenguard Tower, Middle Earth**

When Gandalf come to he was no longer inside Isenguard, but instead on top of it. The old wizard blinked and slowly sat up, wincing when he felt the dried blood on the back of his skull crack open. When he put his head to the place, he could feel the trickle of new, wet blood flowing out of the wound. With a sigh he gathered what little power he had without his staff and collected it into his fingertips, trying to get enough to heal the wound. Unfortunately, it seemed that battling Saruman had taken all of his strength, for the power blew away easily. Gandalf slumped heavily, and closed his eyes in weariness.

He didn't know what to do. It wasn't the first time, for he wasn't all knowing, but it was the only time that knowing what to do would be _crucial_ instead of just helpful. Saruman had told him that the riders had left Minas Morgul; the Nazgul were moving again, and they were looking for the ring. Gandalf shuddered; they would find Frodo, he had no doubt about that. Gandalf felt tears trickle out of his closed eyes and slid down his face into his beard. The thought that the quick, bright-eyed hobbit he had known and loved since a little lad might be killed by something as terrible and disgusting as a Nazgul . . . .

"The old one cries," a voice observed and Gandalf immediately opened his eyes and swung his head in the direction that the sound had come from. When they landed on the figure sitting nearby him, his old eyes widened, for even with all of his years in war, he had never seen anything like this.

The man-child didn't look older than 19, and he was half-naked, showing off his caved in stomach and his abnormally protruding spine. For a moment, Gandalf was reminded disturbingly of Gollum, but that image passed when hollow green eyes stared at him blankly. He shuddered; the boy's painfully beautiful face and the pointed ears that peaked out from his raggedly long black hair marked him as an elf. Bruises highlighted his face, and his lips were so chapped that they had begun to bleed because the boy had spoken. Gandalf could see the long lines of whip scars on the elf's back, as well as some still healing wounds had been made by rope and dagger.

"Who are you, Master elf?" Gandalf asked wearily, wondering why he hadn't been able to see Saruman's treachery before this. To harm an elf like this . . . it was a horrendous thing to do.

The elf stared at him blankly for a moment before a sardonic smile curled at his lips, "I am called . . ." he rasped out, his voice hoarse from underuse, "Hannas Nienor, old one."

_'Understanding Sorrow,'_ Gandalf translated, and in that moment he knew that the name had not been given to Hannas at birth, but had instead been fashioned by the elf himself. He sighed.

"I am Gandalf the Grey," he said quietly. "How did you come to be here Master Nienor?"

Hannas looked at him stoically. "Saruman . . . the White is not . . . as gracious as he . . . appears." In between every few words Hannas gave a hacking cough, obviously pained by using his voice after being silent for so long.

"I had realized," Gandalf said dryly. He sighed again. "Well Master Nienor . . . I suppose I shall have to get two people out this time instead of one." He sat back with a determined look on his face, ignoring the surprised stare Hannas was giving him. He would not let his wits fail him; now not only did he depend on them, but the young, beaten elf next to him did as well.

Gandalf always did have a hero-complex.

* * *

Gandalf sat and waited. He had always been good at waiting; any wizard worth his salt had to be.

Sending a message to the Eagles via a moth had been one of his more brilliant ideas. However, he had been lucky that the moth folk could live anywhere, even in the pit that Isenguard was becoming. Gandalf sighed; he could remember the days when Isenguard was a pinnacle of learning and of light; people would travel from all lands to read the books of the White wizard currently housed in the enormous tower. But his subconscious knew that Isenguard would never be restored to its former glory, and that the light and history of the tower would be lost in the coming war.

"_Yaaraer_ . . . looks likely to cry again," Hannas' voice was getting better after talking some with Gandalf, but the elf still couldn't say longer sentences without coughing. Gandalf shot a smile at him.

"When you're as old as I am, Hannas, you have a lot to cry over," he said.

Hannas' smile was full of wry amusement. "How old do . . . you think I am, _Yaaraer_?"

Gandalf stared at the elf closely. He looked about 19, but elves were always older than they appeared. "Around 1,500 years, Master Nienor."

Gandalf was concerned when Hannas began to croak, but after a few minutes he realized that the elf was laughing. He frowned, somewhat offended, but a part of him was happy to see the strange elf so carefree.

"I have seen over . . . 3,000 and 500 summers, old one," Hannas said, with laughter in his voice. "It is not long . . . for an elf, but 'tis very long . . . for you humans."

Gandalf was surprised. He'd suspected Hannas was an elfling, barely approaching adulthood. Elflings were rare, yes, but it would explain his young face. At such an age he should have looked older, approaching his mid-twenties if you wanted to look at it the mortal way.

"How do you look so young, Hannas, if you are that old? Elves do age, even if it is slowly. I have seen it in my old friend, Master Elrond."

Hannas shrugged, "I do not know, _Yaaraer_. My face remains . . . young as the years pass, as all elves faces . . . do. Why mine stays this way . . . even after all the summers I have seen, I . . . have no idea."

Gandalf harrumphed but remained quiet. Hannas Nienor was a puzzle, and the old wizard always did like puzzles. However he wasn't sure if he could work this one out; Hannas was mild and gently-spoken, like the rest of his kin, but he was also cold and secretive when Gandalf asked too much.

However his mind was torn from his thoughts when he felt the approaching power of Saruman. Over the days that he had been stuck to the top of Isenguard, his power had slowly regenerated. Now he could sense as he was able to before the fight with Saruman, and use the healing magic that didn't require his staff to heal some of Hannas' wounds.

The white-haired wizard glided up out of his tower, and Gandalf felt Hannas tense next to him. Carefully the old wizard put his hand on Hannas' shoulder, ignoring the flinch that the movement had evoked. He whispered soft words in Elvish, trying to keep Hannas as calm as possible.

"Ah, my two prisoners comforting each other," Saruman said with aristocratic disdain. "How . . . touching." He sneered at the hand that was on Hannas' shoulder. Gandalf frowned as Hannas shook slightly.

"What do you want, Saruman?" he asked stiffly.

"I want to make a deal with you, old fool!" Saruman snapped. "I have already offered you this! Join me and Lord Sauron or die with the pathetic elf!"

Gandalf raised a bushy eyebrow. "I will never join Sauron or you Saruman. Sauron is an evil creature that is wasted with madness; to join him is folly."

Saruman snarled and pointed Gandalf's staff at the old wizard; Gandalf winced. He had a connection to his staff, and to have it pointed at him hurt more than any spell would. Saruman knew this of course; that was why he did it.

"Fine!" the other wizard snarled and he jerked the staff to the side, meaning to send Gandalf to the edge of the tower. Gandalf pulled Hannas to him as he slid over; he could sense help coming and he would not leave the elf to be tortured if he could help it.

Saruman sneered but said nothing about it. Instead he made Gandalf slid over the edge of the tower until he was sticking straight out with only his toes connecting him to the black marble of Isenguard. Hannas curled up on his chest like a child, trying to stay as small and light as possible.

"Do you still choose death, Gandalf the Grey?" Saruman asked grandly. Gandalf smiled as he felt the flash of power beneath him. He brought a hand up and tugged with a burst of magic, bringing his staff to him and then let his body fall of the roof when it was no longer held up by Saruman's power. Clutching Hannas tightly to him he fell through the air until he landed with a thump on Gwaihir, the Eagle.

Saruman watched the two fly away with a strange look in his eyes before saying, "So . . . you have chosen death."

* * *

**Rivendell, Middle Earth**

Hannas woke when the Eagle that had saved Gandalf and him landed heavily in a beautiful courtyard full of flowers and fountains. Hannas smiled dreamily; he recognized the touch of elves on the garden.

He blinked when Gandalf slid off of the Eagle and then picked him up, carrying his frail body carefully. Bright blue eyes peered down at him worriedly from underneath bushy eyebrows, and Hannas tried to smile at Gandalf to give the old wizard some reassurance. But, for some reason that made the wizard look even more worried.

Gandalf dashed up the steps at a speed that Hannas would have thought impossible for a mortal his age, and quickly made his way into the elegant house nearby the courtyard they had landed in. Hannas turned his head when he heard a chorus of gasps and was surprised to see a large gathering of elves sitting in the room they had barged into. An elf with long dark hair and wise eyes stood up and made his way to Gandalf, his stately robes making a swishing sound on the stone ground.

When the elf approached the pair he bent down to take a closer look at Hannas and raised an eyebrow in surprise. "He is very old, for one with such a young face," he remarked. Then his eyes darkened as he took in all of Hannas' wounds. "Who did this?"

"Saruman," Gandalf answered gravely. "It seems that he has turned from us and chosen Sauron instead."

The elf closed his eyes in weariness. "I had been warned that he would stray, but I hoped that a wizard's heart would be stouter than a man's." He sighed and then looked down at Hannas once more. "Come, I will heal him, and then we shall hear his story."

Hannas smiled up at the elf and said softly, "_Diola lle, Heru en amin_."

The last thing he saw was the elf's startled face before his vision was overtaken by blackness.

* * *

**Rivendell, Middle Earth  
****Four Days Later**

Hannas woke to sunlight and comfort.

Large green eyes blinked open and the elf squinted as bright sunlight flashed across his face, blinding him temporarily. When he could see again he noticed that Gandalf was sitting near his bedside, watching him with worried light blue eyes. Hannas smiled lightly and tried to ignore the warmth in his belly at seeing how the wizard was worried about him.

"Well, Master Nienor, it seems that you have awakened," Gandalf said, trying to sound stern but he only ended up looking relieved and mischievous instead.

"_Manen lû ann?_" Hannas sighed out. Elvish felt better on his throat, but he hadn't used it on Saruman's tower for fear that Gandalf would not understand him. However, the words of comfort Gandalf had murmured to him when Saruman had confronted them on the tower had been in Elvish, so the old wizard must known something of the language.

"It has been four days since you dropped unconscious," Gandalf said, any form of amusement disappearing instantly. "You have been in a healing sleep, and much has happened during that time. My hobbit friend, Frodo has crossed the border and is currently sleeping off a stab wound. The rest of his company will be here later in the day."

Hannas nodded. Gandalf had told him about the hobbits he had been helping during the time they had spent together on the tower. However he had said nothing about what Frodo's mysterious "quest" was, nor why they needed this amount of secrecy. In return, Hannas had kept secret the reason Saruman had imprisoned him on top of his tower.

"It is thanks to Lord Elrond that you survived." Gandalf continued to talk, and gestured behind him where, to Hannas' surprise, Elrond was standing at the door.

Hannas bowed his head as lowly as he could in his position and murmured, "_Gen hannon o gûr nîn_."

Elrond inclined his head grandly and said quietly, "_Gell nîn, Mith'quessir_."

Hannas' head snapped up and he sighed. "So you have . . . figured it out then?"

"You reek of it, _mellon en mellonamin_," Elrond said with some amusement. "It was obvious when I first had the chance to take a good look at you."

Gandalf interrupted. "May I take Hannas with me to see Frodo, Lord Elrond?"

Elrond considered Hannas for a long moment with steady dark eyes making the younger elf feel like squirming. Eventually he said, "Very well. However, Master Nienor, if you feel ill in any way you will go straight to bed."

Hannas nodded solemnly, all while inwardly wondering if the world knew that Lord Elrond of Rivendell could be such a mother hen. It was amusing, if nothing else. Shaking the thought off, he slowly got out of bed and leaned heavily on Gandalf as they made their way out of the room, Elrond following behind them.

When they reached the room, Hannas frowned and pressed a hand to his forehead, troubled by a sudden headache. Every step that brought them closer to the room made the pounding in Hannas' head worse and soon the elf had his eyes tightly screwed closed from pain. Elrond grabbed his elbow as he started to faint, helping him stay upright.

"Master Nienor? What is it?"

"Can you not feel it, _Heru en amin_?" he asked breathlessly. "The evil in that room . . . does it not crush you under its weight?"

Elrond's eyes were somber. "I can feel it, _Mith'quessir_, but I have the power to block it from hurting me. I will have to teach you, if you are as sensitive to the magic as I believe you to be."

Hannas nodded, but the sparks of pain shooting through his head didn't stop. However instead of turning back, he continued forward, drawn by the strange power that was inside the room.

When he entered he was startled to find that the only two people inside were small hobbits – one unconscious on the bed, his inky hair spread across the pillow, and the other bent over his friend's body, one pale hand clasped in ruddy fingers. Bright blue eyes peered out from a strong face and Hannas smiled gently at the hobbit. _'Such strength for one so young . . . .'_ he thought, watching the stouter, red-haired hobbit turn back to watch his friend's body with worried eyes. _'But then I shouldn't be surprised; they are hobbits, after all.'_

He winced as he saw the thick line of black smoke floating around the unconscious hobbit's neck, occasionally tightening and loosening, but mostly just drifting aimlessly. However the shoulder wound was the most serious; a black cloud hovered over the wound itself and thin black threads were moving towards the hobbit's heart. Hannas swayed as another throb of pure _evil_ came at him and sat on the bed to steady himself.

"That'll be enough, Master Hannas," Gandalf said, his beard practically quivering with seriousness. Hannas almost smiled. "Back to bed with you – you can ask Frodo as many questions as you want when he wakes," Gandalf briefly spared a look at the fragile body lying next to Hannas and the elf saw an overwhelming amount of concern in the wizard's eyes. Smiling he stood up, but before he left he pressed a hand to the red-haired hobbit's shoulders, bringing bright blue eyes to meet his own green ones once more.

"He'll be alright, Master Hobbit," Hannas said calmly. "Your friend is very strong, to bear such an evil and not surrender. But when he wakes . . . he shall need your strength. You must prepare yourself for that." With those parting words he hobbled from the room, gratefully accepting Gandalf's helping hand as they made their way back into Hannas' room, leaving Elrond to check on the young hobbit in the room behind them.

* * *

Frodo didn't wake for another week, giving Hannas time to heal and get to know the hobbit's companions. He'd been amused by Merry and Pippin, became quick friends with Sam, and had been quietly respectful of "Strider". Hannas was observant enough to notice that despite being a Ranger, Strider carried himself with a noble stride, his speech was very good for a man who supposedly lived in the woods for most of his life, and he was perfectly at ease in the Elvin courts, when no self-respecting ranger would be caught in them on a good day. But he said nothing about this to the oblivious hobbits; with plenty of his own secrets to shoulder, Hannas was more inclined to respect other people's privacy than some might be.

Hannas' wounds had started to heal already; away from the evil presence of Isenguard, his natural healing powers started to come back to him, smoothing over the wounds on his chest and back and enlarging his stomach bit by bit so he was able to eat more. Soon he was able to walk without assistance (an accomplishment he was proud of) and he often sat or walked in Rivendell's large gardens, feeling content at seeing such beauty once more.

When Hannas heard of Frodo's awakening he immediately left the gardens he was so fond of, hurrying to the small hobbit's rooms, his elven-made robes flowing behind him as he did so. The room held only Gandalf, Frodo, and Sam when he entered, making the threesome look up at him with varying emotions across their faces; Gandalf with amusement, Sam with surprise, and Frodo with confusion. Hannas bowed to Frodo before sweeping over to Gandalf's side, giving the amused wizard a stern look.

"Who are you?" Frodo asked, his voice soft and lilting; a singer's voice. Hannas smiled at the hobbit.

"I am called Hannas Nienor, Frodo Baggins," Hannas said quietly. "Mithrandir rescued me from Isenguard a little over a week ago."

Frodo looked astonished. "You don't look like you were a prisoner there!" he cried.

"I heal fast," Hannas answered with a shrug, ignoring Gandalf's appraising look. "However, I heard you were awake and came to ask you a few questions." Frodo tensed, but Hannas continued to talk as if he hadn't seen it. "That thing on your neck; what is it?"

Frodo hesitated, "What thing?"

Hannas gave him a look. "Don't play stupid, Mr. Baggins; I am an elf and I can sense things easier than most. There is something of great evil around your neck, and its black cloud closes tighter and tighter around you every day that I see you. I will ask you again; what is this burden that you carry?"

Frodo looked to Gandalf before turning back to Hannas. "It is the One Ring," he answered, his voice low and troubled. Sam laid a hand on his shoulder and glared up at Hannas, who gave him an amused look. It looked like Frodo Baggins had quite a guard dog!

"So it has returned to the world," Hannas said, his amusement fading as he thought about Frodo's burden. "You have been asked to carry it, yes? It was a wise decision; hobbits are made of sterner stuff than any mortal or immortal in this world. Perhaps it has something to do with them not wanting something big and grand, as most of the 'Big Folk' do . . . ." Hannas trailed off, thoughtful, while the three others in the room watched him.

"How do you know so much about hobbits?" Sam said suspiciously. He may like the odd elf, but Mr. Frodo was always his first priority.

Hannas laughed. "I may look young, Samwise Gamgee, but I have been alive long enough to know your great-great-great grandfather's father! I have not come across many hobbits during my travels, but the ones I have were much stouter than any man could hope to be."

He turned to Gandalf, who was still smiling in amusement. "You have told him about the council haven't you, Mithrandir?"

The old wizard's amusement faded into a decently guilty look. "No I have not. Frodo," the hobbit's attention turned back to Gandalf sharply, "there is going to be council tomorrow about what will happen next with the ring. You have been invited to attend, as a bearer of it."

Frodo hesitated for a moment. "Will you be there, Gandalf?"

Gandalf inclined his head. "Unfortunately, none of the other hobbits will be allowed in by Elrond's orders, but Strider and Hannas will both be there as well."

"Who else will be coming?" Frodo asked.

"Hmm . . . Some of the dwarves and elves of Mirkwood are supposed to arrive today," Gandalf explained. "I believe Elrond mentioned a couple of guests from other countries as well, but I was wool-gathering at the time, so I didn't quite catch them." Gandalf looked quite sheepish.

Hannas laughed melodically and placed a hand on the old wizard's shoulder. "Do not worry, Mithrandir, it is the side-affect of old age."

"Aa, but if that applies to me, _mellon_, then what are we to say about you?" Gandalf teased back gently.

Hannas threw his nose into the air, and looked every bit as snobby as some of the elves strutting around Rivendell. "I'll have you know, Mithrandir, that we elves would never do anything as plebian as to _wool-gather_." He sounded rather disgusted with the very idea. "Younglings these days," he muttered under his breath.

Gandalf sent Hannas a grateful glance when Frodo started to laugh at their antics – they both knew that the little hobbit was being weighed down too heavily with his burdens. _'Besides,'_ Hannas thought, watching Frodo's laughter with a smile, _'happiness suits his face better.'_

"I will see on the morrow," Hannas said when their merriment had run out. He rose and bent his head. "Steel yourself, Frodo Baggins," he murmured to the hobbit as he passed. "You have a long, hard journey ahead of you."

* * *

Hannas watched quietly as the people began to pour into the small, outdoor gathering area Elrond had arranged. He could sense no evil from any them, other than from the ring around Frodo's neck, so he relaxed slightly. As soon as everyone was seated and quiet, Elrond rose to his feet.

"Welcome, guests," he said grandly. "We have gathered here together for the purpose of deciding what to do with a great evil that has fallen into Rivendell's grasp. Frodo, come here. Show them the ring."

Frodo hesitantly stood up and, once reaching the small, round table sitting in front of Elrond, deposited the small ring onto the middle. Hannas winced as he felt a boom of power as the ring connected, the evil spreading quickly through the room to find the easiest victim.

"This," Elrond told them, "is the ring of Power, forged by Sauron all those years ago. What we need to decide," he sounded decidedly weary, "is how to destroy it."

The area was silent for a moment until a dwarf leapt to his feet, ax in hand. "Well, let's just get it done and over with," he said gruffly, hurrying forward to attack.

Elrond and the people gathered were decidedly surprised to see that the dwarf was stopped by an annoyed looking Hannas, who blocked the axe with a strange blade. "Do not be stupid, Dwarf," he told the dwarf crossly. "If we could have destroyed it already, we would have! It cannot be destroyed by any mortal hands, no matter what tools they hold." He turned to Elrond. "You shouldn't encourage such foolishness, _Heru en amin_," he muttered. Elrond hid a smile as all the elves in the surrounding area looked astonished.

"Who is this, Lord Elrond?" asked one of them.

"This is Hannas Nienor, an elf who was captured by Saruman the White and rescued by Mithrandir. He is my guest."

"You wish to bring it to Mount Doom, _Heru en amin_, correct?" Hannas asked, ignoring the speculating looks he got from all of the new arrivals.

"Yes. The Ring can only be destroyed in the fires of Mount Doom, where it was created," Elrond explained to the rest of the group. "What we need is someone to bring it there."

Silence spread again until a man spoke up. "Why destroy it at all?" He ignored the sharp looks he got from Elrond, Gandalf, and Hannas. "It has great power, does it not? Why do we not use it? Gondor needs such a weapon!"

"Are you a fool, man of Gondor?!" Hannas demanded. "You have a weak soul – if you tried to take over the Ring it would take over you instead! And when the Ring has someone in its grasp it can easily make sure Sauron finds it! Do you really wish to end all hope just to settle your _vanity_?!"

"It is not vanity!" Boromir leapt to his feet, outraged. "Gondor is attacked by all sides, it needs this ring!"

"You cannot control it," Hannas told him coldly. "Elves cannot control it, Men cannot control it – no one can, except for the one who made it. But there are many people who would handle it better than you, man of Gondor. It has already captured you, and you have not even held it in your hands yet!"

"I will not stand here and take this!" Boromir thundered, half-drawing his sword from its scabbard. Hannas just smiled grimly at him.

"Do you think you can beat me, mortal child?" he asked in a soft deadly voice that had a hint of a serpentine lisp to it. "I have sseen thoussandss of yearss passs by, while you have barely seen 25 ssummerss. You will only look the fool."

Boromir colored and slowly his sword returned to its scabbard. Hannas eyed him for a moment and then spoke again, in a normal voice this time. "The Ring cannot be destroyed by us. It cannot be used by us. It can only be taken to Mount Doom. That is the only course of action. What we have to decide is who will do it." He turned on his heel and slumped back into his seat, ignoring the curious looks of his neighbors.

A blond elf leapt to his feet. "If no one else will go, I will take the ring." Hannas eyed him for a minute then sighed. Before he could say anything Gimli snorted.

"I would sooner die then trust anything to the hands of an elf!" the dwarf protested. Most elves leapt up in the defense of the blond and soon a huge group of squabbling elves, dwarves, and men was made. Hannas, Gandalf, Elrond, and Frodo were the only ones still seated; even Strider had succumbed to the madness. Hannas' attention was caught when Frodo suddenly stood. He frowned when he noticed the thin black strands extending from the ring to circle around Frodo's waist, pulling him gently towards it. _'It's manipulating him,'_ he realized. _'He probably doesn't even realize it.'_

"I will take the ring!" Frodo declared. The squabble continued and he said louder, "I will take the ring!" Finally the voices felt silent. Hannas felt his heart go out to the small hobbit that looked so unsure with all the big people looking down at him in surprise. "Though I do not know the way," he added quietly.

"I will lead you," Gandalf said, standing and placing a hand on Frodo's shoulder.

"You have my sword," Strider said with a smile.

"And my bow," the blond elf said, sharing a look with Strider.

"And _my_ axe," Gimli said, sending a smug look up to the blond elf.

"Mr. Frodo isn't going anywhere without me!" a voice cried from the bushes and out leapt Sam.

"No, it is impossible to separate you too, Master Gamgee, even when he is invited to a private gathering and _you_ are not," Elrond told the stout hobbit in a wry tone. Sam just blushed.

"We're coming too!" Two voices cried in unison and Merry and Pippin popped up next to Frodo.

"You need people of intelligence on this sort of . . . journey . . . quest . . . thing," Pippin said.

Merry shot his cousin a look. "Guess that rules you out Pip." Hannas stifled a laugh.

"And I will join you as well," Hannas said, standing next to Gandalf. Elrond raised an eyebrow but didn't comment on his sudden decision. Instead he surveyed the group with an approving eye.

"10 companions," he said. "Eight of you to combat the eight soldiers of the Nazgul and two of you," here his gaze wandered to Gandalf and Hannas, "to combat the Nazgul king. Yes, this will work out perfectly. We will work out the details later on, but you have a week to prepare for your journey. After that, it would be wise to head onward."

"Onward to Mount Doom," Hannas said grimly, hands tightening into fists. "May the Gods help us."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Heh, heh, heh…Maybe I shouldn't start yet another story when I've got dozens of others on hold? But when a story's finished, I can't help but post it! And you all seemed enthusiastic about this particular story in the poll, so…Hannas is, obviously, Harry, and his past and how he got to Middle Earth will be revealed later on. He seems quite a bit different now, but you would mellow down after 3,500 years of living, don't you think? Please leave a review!

**A Note on Hannas' Age:** Elrond is supposedly somewhere over 5,000 years old; he was roughly around 2,000 years during the first war, and it's been 3,000 years since then. Legolas is around 3,000 years. I decided to put Hannas between the two (older than Legolas and younger than Elrond) at around 3,500 years.  
**A Note on Gandalf:** The original chapter had Gandalf as younger than Hannas, but I'd forgotten how old he really is (blame it on not reading the books for several years). I've fixed it, but you have to remember that Hannas doesn't realize how old Gandalf is (thus, the Younglings comment) and only thinks of him as a human.

**Translations:**

Yaaraer: Ancient One  
Diola lle: Thank You  
Gen hannon o gûr nîn: I thank you from my heart  
Heru en amin: My Lord (Formal)  
Manen lû ann?: How long?  
Gell nîn, Mith'quessir: It was my pleasure, Grey elf.  
Mellon en mellonamin: Friend of my friend  
Mellon: Friend  
Mith'quessir: Grey elf


	2. The Fellowship Starts Its Jouney

**Author's Notes:** Thanks for the reviews – and yes, all Elvish translations will now go by the sentences. Geez, you guys didn't have to tell me so many times to get your point across! And sorry for this taking so long – I seem to have major writer's block for this story.

"Talking" / _'Thinking'_ / _"Spells"_

* * *

**Away From the Sun  
****Chapter Two: The Fellowship Starts Its Journey**

Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose. (The Wonder Years)

Dumbledore shook his head. "Curiosity is not a sin," he said. "But we should exercise caution with our curiosity…Yes indeed…" (J.K. Rowling, _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_)

The cure for boredom is curiosity. There is no cure for curiosity. (Dorothy Parker)

Show me a hero and I'll write you a tragedy. (F.S. Fitzgerald)

Pain hardens, and great pain hardens greatly, whatever the comforters say, and suffering does not ennoble, though it may occasionally lend a certain rigid dignity of manner to the suffering frame. (Antonia S. Byatt)

"You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment if you do not trust enough." (Frank Crane)

"I don't know what it is," answered Fiver wretchedly. "There isn't any danger here, at the moment. But it's coming – it's coming." (Richard Adams, _Watership Down_)

* * *

**Rivendell, Middle Earth**

The day had come for the Fellowship to leave Rivendell and start their journey to Mordor. Hannas was watching with amusement as three hobbits scrambled across their rooms, frantically packing whatever they could fit.

"Get more of that food, Merry!" Pippin cried, stuffing some shirts into his pack. "Never know when you're gonna get the munchies," he added in to Hannas in complete seriousness. Sam snorted from his corner, where he was stuffing pans into his pack.

Hannas, however, laughed, and the hobbits paused at the unusual sound, entranced by the bell-like quality to it. Hannas smiled often, especially when he was with the four little folk, but he had never laughed. It was the first time they had heard such a sound from him, and they were amazed by the genuine joy in it.

"Hannas!" Pippin cried, jumping on the elf. He was pleased that he'd been the one to make the elf laugh. "Who knew you had such a laugh?!"

Hannas smiled down at the hobbit. "It seems that your joy has jumped into me, Master Hobbit. You have my greatest thanks. I have not enjoyed laughter in quite some time." The hobbits were disappointed to see Hannas' eyes darken and grow somber. "Not in quite some time," he murmured again, mostly to himself. Then he shook off the haze of darkness that had seemed to cover his frame and turned to Merry, Pippin still clinging to his side. "Where is Frodo? Or did he have more common sense and pack before the day we had to leave?" he added, with a gentle, teasing smile.

Merry smiled back. "Frodo went to visit Bilbo one last time." Merry sighed. "He's afraid that he might die before Frodo comes back." _'If he comes back,'_ hovered in the air, unspoken.

"Bilbo's a tough old geezer," Pippin said with good cheer, going back to his frantic packing. "I'm sure that he'll survive, if only so he can write down everything that happened." The hobbits laughed together. Hannas smiled.

"I have something I need to do, little ones, so I will take my leave now. I will see you at the gates in a few hours time. And Master Pippin," here his face took on a stern look, "do not pack too much food and too little clothing!" He left the room with Merry's laughter in his ears.

Hannas made his way outside, noticing that the courtyard seemed unusually empty for such a sunny day. Perhaps everyone was preparing for the departure of the Fellowship. This did make it easier for him to escape into the woods surrounding Rivendell, however. Or, at least it would've had not one elf managed to see him in the process of said sneaking.

"Master Nienor!" Legolas of Mirkwood cried, chasing after him. Hannas sighed and slowed down so the younger elf could catch up. "Where are you going?"

Hannas eyed the elf, wondering if he should tell the truth or not. Hannas made a practice to be as truthful as he could, and it would not do much harm to let Legolas know, but a part of him (a very large part) selfishly wanted to keep it to himself. But if stayed silent, than the elf would be all the more curious. _'Damnit.'_

"There's something I need to do before we leave," he said, trying to be as vague as possible. Perhaps Legolas would leave it at that. From what he'd seen of the elf's personality, however, Hannas doubted it.

Legolas eyed him curiously. "Will you need help with whatever it is you need to do, Master Nienor?" Hannas groaned inwardly. _'I hate being right,'_ he thought, although that wasn't really true.

"No, I don't," Hannas said, a little curtly, wishing the other elf would leave. Legolas remained silent, eyeing Hannas for a moment.

"May I watch whatever it is you are about to do, Master Nienor?" It was a good thing Legolas sounded genuinely curious, otherwise Hannas would've just snapped at him to let well alone.

Hannas' lips tightened before he let loose an explosive sigh. "Very well. But only if you call me Hannas. Hearing Master Nienor makes me feel older than I already am." _'It wouldn't do any harm to let him come along. It's not like he won't find out anyways.'_

Legolas smiled and fell in step with Hannas as he made his way into the woods surrounding Rivendell. Hannas really should've done this the moment he could walk on his own, but something had told him to wait for the right moment. He was somewhat glad he did.

They were only into the edge of the woods when Hannas stopped, signaling for Legolas to stop with him. The blond elf did so, eyeing his companion curiously. Hannas closed his eyes and concentrated before giving a high, long whistle. The sound of it carried curiously far into the woods. Legolas whirled on Hannas, eyes flashing.

"Master Nienor!" he cried. "That will call every evil thing within a league to us!"

He frowned mock-sternly at the other elf. "What did I tell you about calling me Master Nienor?" Hannas then smiled gently. "No evil ears can hear the sound," he explained. "It will only reach the ears that I wish to hear it."

Legolas was doubtful, but he quieted down. The two waited for many minutes until, finally, the sound of hooves hit their sensitive elven ears. Legolas' hand inched towards the bow slung over one shoulder, but Hannas remained calm. Within minutes, a creature drew into the sight of the two elves, swerving gracefully around the trees in its way. Legolas gasped while Hannas merely smiled.

Lanae **(1)** was most definitely a beautiful sight; Hannas had adored her the moment he first saw her, so many years ago. She was of his own world: the world that he'd left behind. She was what his old world had called a Hippogriff – a splendid, proud creature that was as loyal was it was brave, as smart as it was cunning. Hannas had once said, in his old world, that the Hippogriff was a combination of all of the Houses that he had grown up with. He had been lucky to find such a creature to follow him to Middle Earth; Hippogriffs lived for an extroadinarily long time; despite being as old as Hannas, Lanae was still as sharp and strong as she'd been when she was only a few years old.

Lanae lived up to her name – her feathers were a glossy, raven black, and her hide was the same shade. Her tail was the same glossy black, although those that got close enough could see the random white strands intertwining with the rest of it. Her eyes were dark blue and sharply intelligent – besides them, the only thing that held color on her were her sharply curved golden claws.

"What is it?" Legolas whispered, clear awe in his voice and face. Hannas smiled proudly.

"She is a Hippogriff," he explained, "the last of her kind on Middle Earth. Her name is Lanae." Lanae was close to them now, and Hannas held out a hand. Sharp eyes came up and then softened and the Hippogriff hurried her stride until she was nuzzling Hannas' outstretched hand. Hannas laughed slightly and Legolas eyed his companion with surprise. He'd only seen the strange, dark-haired elf once or twice, but the few times he had, Hannas had seemed serious and stately. Now, in the forest, carefree as an elfling, he looked more beautiful. Warmth suited Hannas' face.

"Do you want to touch her?" Hannas asked and Legolas turned to face his companion. He eyed the big, strange animal warily but without fear – he'd seen stranger. And any familiar of Hannas' would not be devastatingly dangerous, he'd realized that even after knowing the elf for so little of a time. Legolas nodded.

"You have to bow to her," Hannas said. "Hippogriffs are very proud, stately creatures. If she bows back, then you may touch her. If she doesn't, I'd suggest you back up fast." Hannas had a smile on his face as he said this, as if he was recalling a fond memory. Legolas hesitantly bowed to the black creature in front of him, his eyes staying on Lanae even as his body bended. Almost immediately, the Hippogriff bowed back and approached Legolas, urging him to pet her head.

"Well!" Hannas said with a smile. "I do believe that I've been replaced!" Legolas smiled slightly as he smoothed the dark, silky feathers under his fingertips. Intelligent eyes met his and he felt that this beast was not a beast at all, but more of a person dressed in an animal's clothing. But weren't most animals that way? People tended to underestimate beasts – they so were so much smarter than anyone gave them credit for.

"Now, Lanae, I hope that you have kept all my supplies safe," Hannas said, and Lanae gave a snort and threw an indignant look over her shoulder. Hannas smiled and bent over Lanae's back to tug at a small case attached to Lanae's side. It was about the size of a small chest and had seven, thin dangling locks attached to its side. Legolas eyed the case with surprise.

"That is what you needed?" Legolas asked.

"Yes," Hannas answered a smile on his lips as he stared down at the case in his hands. "But the Fellowship has started to prepare themselves to leave; we'd best be getting back so we can get ready as well. Lanae, you know where to find me," he added in to the Hippogriff, placing a gentle kiss in the middle of her feather-covered head. "Stay safe," he said and then whispered quietly in her ear before Lanae butted her head against his hand one last time and moved away into the forest. Hannas watched her go with a sad frown on his face.

"She is your familiar, Mast—Hannas?" Legolas asked curiously.

"Aye," Hannas said. "She has been with for many long years. I trust no one more than I trust Lanae." Dark green eyes surveyed Legolas' face before the older elf smiled slightly. "But enough of that talk, we'd best be getting back."

* * *

Legolas and Hannas parted ways at the gates when they saw that their companions were still getting ready to get their things. Hannas smiled as he strolled down the complicated hallways of Rivendell – he was happy to have his things again. He loved the light, airy clothes Lord Elrond had provided him with, but he liked his own clothes much better. And his trunk had everything he'd brought with him from his old home inside. He'd been cautious – and rightfully so – when he'd decided to travel to Isenguard to meet with the White Wizard Saruman, and had left the trunk behind with Lanae, ordering her to go north to Rivendell if he didn't arrive back within five days and wait for him there. He was glad he had now – had the trunk been on him, he was certain Saruman would've taken it and Hannas would've lost all of his supplies and many valuable items. He sighed and turned into his rooms. He'd take a quick bath, change his clothes, gather his things and then wait for the others at the gate.

The bath was warm and rose-scented; Elves were notorious for their love of luxury and fine things. Hannas didn't mind it. He liked these things as well, though he could live as sensibly as any Ranger. But the water felt good against his skin, and he sank into it with a sigh, closing his eyes.

Legolas would probably tell someone about Lanae. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep his companion secret for much longer; after all, he'd planned on offering her help to carry supplies. He supposed he'd wanted to keep their reunion private, and that was why he'd been so harsh with the younger elf earlier. He'd been anxious about Lanae, even if he didn't show it to Legolas, and he had been impatient to see her as soon as possible. Though why he'd let Legolas accompany him, he had no idea. Perhaps it was because he was an elf, and Hannas knew that he would understand his love for the Hippogriff. Elves were the closest to nature, after all, and if anyone could understand the close relationship between an animal and a person it would be an elf.

Still, he didn't really have a reason to let Legolas come with him. Perhaps, in time, they could be friends. Hannas found the other elf likeable enough, after all, and Lanae seemed to like him. But Hannas found that he was wary making connections with anyone, even the joyful hobbits and Gandalf, his savior. His past made it hard for him to make relationships - any relationships. Hannas was always fearful that they would end up like his old friends and family did; dead.

Hannas shuddered slightly and closed his eyes. He didn't want to think of that. He'd left it all behind thousands of years ago, when he'd first come into this world. It had been a choice made in grief, but it was not a choice Hannas regretted. He enjoyed Middle Earth and the time he'd spent in it. He'd wandered the world with little care for where he was for many years before he finally came enough out of his grief to care if he lived or died. What was not said about elves in texts was that they were creatures of deep feeling; when one of their kin or friends or even their race died they felt it deeply within their souls.

Hannas sighed and stood from his bath, his good mood ruined. He didn't bother using anything to dry himself with; instead he waved his hands and a cool breeze floated throughout the room, drying Hannas off quickly and naturally. Hannas shook his wet hair and then, with an exasperated huff, waved his hands again, smiling when he ran his hands through his now dry hair. Magic was such a useful thing.

Hannas moved out into his bedroom and gathered his trunk towards him. With a final wave of his hand he whispered, _"Engorgio," _and the trunk instantly expanded, growing until it reached Hannas' waist in height. Hannas smiled and reached for the small set of keys he kept around his neck. Carefully, he unlocked the third lock and opened the case. A set of stairs was at the top, and Hannas walked down into a large closet filled with clothes. Hannas smiled, delighted to see all of his old clothes around him.

Hannas rummaged through his clothes until he found his favorite traveling outfit and most comfortable boots. Gathering everything to his side he made his way up the stairs and closed the trunk. Then he laid out his clothes on the bed and started to get dressed.

Most of his clothes were made from dragonhide, as Hannas had always found it comfortable to wear and extremely useful in case of an attack. He'd picked out such an outfit today; tight fitting but comfortable dark gray pants and a no-sleeved shirt of the same color. Then he pulled on his favorite coat; it was dark blue and the scales that it was made out of shimmered slightly in the dim light. The sleeves were as long as Hannas could make them without having them in the way, and it buttoned up snugly to his waist, keeping it from hanging open and being a nuisance. Then, finally, he pulled on black leather boots made comfortable by magic and constant use, tucking the edge of his pants into them neatly. Silently he bopped the heel and smirked when a dagger slid soundlessly out of the toe. He checked the other foot and, after gaining the same results, moved the tiny knives back into their previous positions.

Fully dressed, Hannas decided that now would be the time to retrieve the rest of his weapons as well. He unlocked the fifth lock and stepped down a familiar flight of stairs into his weaponry room. He'd only carried his sword on him for days now, and it would be a bit of a relief to be fully armed again. Hannas, over the years, had become quite paranoid, though it had saved his life more often than none.

His weaponry was one of the smallest rooms in his trunks. Along one wall was an array of swords; various weapons that he'd picked up and decided to keep during his time in Middle Earth. He had only one sword from his previous world; a long, silver, two-handed broadsword with a shining ruby in its handle. Hannas eyed it fondly as he moved towards his daggers.

Daggers, personally, were one of Hannas' two weapons of choice. They were quick, fast, and easy to hide, making them Hannas' perfect weapon. He carried five daggers on him, six if you considered the small one in his boot. The first two were identical in every way, from the shimmering silver-colored surface of their knife to their onyx black hilt. They were sharp and deadly to the extreme. He had another pair of knives; these, though, were made for slicing and hacking; their blade curved slightly, making a jagged, crescent like look. The hilt was a dark, crimson red. His final knife was, in a word, special. It was a bit longer than the others, with a deadly straight blade that was jagged on both sides. Faint runes marked its silver sides, etched black into the shining metal. Its hilt was an acidic green. If one got close enough to the hilt, you could see the faint markings of snakes covering the handle, their bodies barely a shade darker than the hilt itself. But, usually, when one was close enough to see that, you were dead. It was one of his only blades that could carry a small degree of magic in it.

Hannas strapped these blades into their usual places; two on the outside of his hips, two strapped along his arms, and his magic blade on a sheath on his hip. Then he turned to the third wall, where he kept his bow and arrows.

There were two bows on the far wall, both of them equally magnificent. One was large and beautifully made; it looked more decorative than practical, but Hannas knew that it could stand up in a fight like any other good weapon. The wood was completely black; made from ebony, in fact. The other bow was smaller and plainer, but it had the delicate tracery of runes along its shimmering, chestnut colored wooden handle. Both bows had dark strings; they were made from Lanae's tail hair. There was also a dark brown case filled with arrows next to the bows. The case itself was mostly plain; it was made from black leather and had a simple silver crescent moon stitched into its side. The arrows filling it were of a top make; the shafts were straight and perfectly balanced, with icy blue arrow feathers adorning them.

Hannas pulled off the smaller bow and the quiver of arrows and strapped them along his back. He'd need the lighter of the pair for faster traveling. He looked around the room and decided that that would be enough since he already had his main sword in the room already. Hannas had taken only the sword with him into Saruman's lair; but he'd shrunken it and placed it close to him so that he could reach it at any time. It was only through luck that Saruman hadn't found it and kept it.

Hannas moved out of the weaponry and closed the lid. He eyed the trunk contemplatively. He wouldn't mind grabbing a few more things . . . . But there was only one thing that he really needed to feel more secure. With a sigh, Hannas unlocked the second lock and climbed down into the stairs. In front of him was a fairly large potions lab; one that would've made his old teacher gape. Hannas smiled at the thought as he made his way to the cabinet that stood in the corner. He opened it to reveal dozens of bottles standing on the shelves. Along the doors was several kinds of belts.

Hannas plucked off the belt with the most retainers – it was colored a silver that he noticed, with some amusement, went with his outfit – and looped it loosely around his waist before peering in at his potions. What ones were he likeliest to need? Definitely some healing potions, he thought, and took several of the most general ones he could find. Pepper-Up would be good as well, and some poisons for when they'd be inevitably attacked. Sleeping and Headache potions, for him mostly, but for his companions as well. He pulled off a few more offensive potions (one that could freeze a person in their tracks if it hit their skin, another that burned skin like acid) and then nodded in satisfaction. That would do for now.

He stepped out of the trunk and finally decided that he was ready to depart. With a casual wave of his hand, he shrunk the trunk until it was the size of a pendent. He pulled out a string from his elven clothes and silently transfigured it into a thin piece of leather. He attached his trunk to the necklace and tied it around his neck, satisfied. Then he gathered his sword and strapped it to his hip. He took one last look at the room before whirling around on his heel and striding out.

The gates were empty when he came to them, which surprised Hannas a bit. He'd thought that Aragorn and Legolas, at least, would be the type to be punctual. Gandalf and the hobbits would most likely be late, from what he knew of their personalities. Boromir, well . . . . Hannas sighed. He'd have to apologize to the man sooner or later. Hannas had become incredibly impatient with people who couldn't see things differently than the way they wanted it to be, and Boromir's suggestion had struck him as immeasurably stupid. Besides, better that someone interfere here than have Boromir betray them all for hopes that would, in the end, just lead to disaster, right? That's what Hannas had decided. But still, he probably had come off as rather harsh. Hannas knew they'd need trust for this mission to work, and that wouldn't work if Boromir hated or feared him. Hannas sighed again. _'Damned people. I should've stayed in hiding.'_

He looked up and saw the majority of the Fellowship heading towards him except, of course, Gandalf and the two of four hobbits. Frodo, Sam, Gimli, Boromir, Aragorn, and Legolas were all there though, and they were all looking at him with varying expressions of surprise. Hannas, slightly uncomfortable with their obvious scrutiny, shifted uncomfortably.

"What?!" he snapped. "I'm just wearing what I usually wear!"

Aragorn snorted at that. "And just where did you get your usual clothes, Master Nienor?" he asked teasingly. Aragorn and Hannas had achieved a state of mutual respect; they weren't close friends, but they would be able to work together for this mission. Hannas blinked, a bit surprised.

"I would've thought Legolas had told you," he said, completely truthfully.

"_Nan aear ar in elin!_" _(By the sea and stars!)_ Legolas said, sounding surprised. "Why would I do that? It was your secret, Master Nienor."

"Personally," Gimli said, his beard quivering and his eyes darting suspiciously between the two elves, "I think it's rude to have a conversation that no one can make heads or tails of."

Hannas smiled slightly. "Do you mean the subject of the conversation, Master Gimli, or the language of it?"

"Both, laddie!" Gimli cried, looking a bit exasperated. Hannas just smiled at him.

"Peace, Gimli," Aragorn said, smiling slightly. "When two elves are together, it is hard to stop them from talking in their native tongue."

Gimli just huffed and turned his head away. Hannas turned from the disgruntled dwarf to the other man of the small group, who was watching him warily. Hannas inclined his head.

"I find I owe you an apology, man of Gondor," he said somewhat formally. "Sometimes my temper runs away with me, and I say things harshly." Hannas smiled slightly. "It is a bit unbecoming for an elf."

Boromir looked like he was about to agree, but an elbow in his side from Aragorn made him stop. He shot a glare at the ranger, but said, "It's alright," he said stiffly. "I was being . . . rash."

Hannas eyed him curiously. Boromir probably still believed he could harness the Ring's power, and Hannas doubted that would change without a life-changing event. Boromir seemed stubborn; it would take more than words to soften his mind. Hannas sighed; in fact, the other man reminded him somewhat of a person he'd known in his past world. He just hoped that Boromir's fate wouldn't be the same as that someone. No matter how foolhardy he thought the man was, he didn't want him dead.

"Gandalf and the little ones are late, as usual," Aragorn said, with some humor, obviously trying to lighten the atmosphere a bit.

"What else can you expect from a wizard and hobbits?" Gimli grunted. "I remember the stories the dwarves used to tell of Gandalf and Mr. Bilbo Baggins, Frodo's uncle."

"Ah, yes," Hannas said, remembering the wild rumors that had spread over the land at that time of the world. "Bilbo accompanied the dwarves on their hunt, didn't he?" he mused aloud.

Gimli blinked, looking a little surprised to find that someone outside of the dwarven realm knew the story that hadn't been involved in it. "How do you know, elf?" he asked suspiciously.

Hannas just smiled at him calmly. "I traveled the world for many years, Master Dwarf; it was hard not learn of what was going on in it."

Before Gimli could respond, Legolas cried, "Ah, here comes our elusive Fellowship members!"

The rest of the group and looked to see that indeed the wizard and the hobbits were ambling towards them, packs on all of their backs except, of course, Gandalf's. Hannas couldn't find it in him to be surprised that the wizard wasn't carrying anything with him. Probably the wizard either was going to rely on someone else's rations or he'd stashed it away within his robes. Hannas wondered if anyone in the group would notice his lack of a pack. Surely they would comment on it?

Gandalf approached the group with a smile. Gimli snorted at the look and said bluntly, "You're late, Gandalf."

"A wizard is never late, everyone else is simply early," Gandalf said wisely. Hannas and Gimli snorted in unison at that, and then looked at each other in surprise. Then Gimli grinned.

"Y'know, I might actually get to like you elf," he said.

Hannas smirked. "The same might not be said for you, dwarf." Gimli's face straightened into a scowl. Legolas, however, smiled slightly.

"Now, friends, let us not quarrel," Gandalf said as Gimli opened his mouth to combat Hannas' remark. His bright blue eyes were twinkling in a way that reminded Hannas eerily of someone he'd known during his past life . . . but he shook that thought away. "We must be on our way."

"Are Elrond and the others not going to see us off, Mithrandir?" Hannas asked quietly. Gandalf smiled.

"Yes, here them come now," he gestured to the gate opposite them. Elrond and a large party of elves travelled through it, looking regal and palely beautiful in the early morning sunlight.

"We wish you a good journey," Elrond said to the group. "I hope that our luck travels with you, for we do not need it so much as you."

Hannas came forward and bowed over Elrond's hand. "_I laiss e-guil lîn ava fired_," he murmured _(May the leaves of your life never die)_.

Elrond smile and planted a cool kiss to Hannas' forehead as the smaller elf straightened. "_Anor calatha erin râd gîn_," he said _(May the sun shine upon your path)_. "I wish you all luck with your travels," he said as Hannas stepped back into the group. Legolas stepped forward.

"Please tell my father that I have gone, Lord Elrond," he said quietly, bowing over the elf's hand like Hannas had.

Elrond nodded. "I will, Legolas of Mirkwood," he said. As Legolas stepped back, he turned to look at the rest of the company with sad, stern eyes.

"Now," he said, "the path before you is bleak. I pray that you have the courage to face these dark times ahead, for you . . . . are our only hope. Let that be on your consciences as you make your decisions in this final battle against those who would destroy Middle Earth forever."

Elrond's eyes met Gandalf's, and they seemed to talk without speaking for several long moments before Elrond turned away.

"I have no gifts to give you," he continued, "except the hope and support of my people. If you should ever need help on this quest of yours, we will be at your assistance. Now," he raised an arm, gesturing to the gate that exited out of Rivendell, "it is time for you to take your leave. _Raid lîn celin a melthin_ _(May your paths be green and golden)_." He paused. "And may we have safety here until you fulfill your quest," he added in softly.

Hannas shuddered as a feeling of foreboding crept over him. He tried to shake it off, but a dark shadow grew over his heart, leaving him with no uncertainty that Elrond's wish would not be fulfilled. Whether it was his blessing to the Fellowship or the wish for peace for his people, Hannas didn't know.

* * *

The others reacted well to Lanae, to Hannas' pleased surprise. The hobbits took to her immediately, and Gandalf and Aragorn found her fascinating. Gimli and Boromir looked a bit uncomfortable near her, but Hannas believed that was mostly due to her strange shape and how sharply intelligent she seemed. They'd put some of their heavier packs on her back, but Lanae wasn't bothered by it at all. She walked next to Hannas for the most part, cooing softly every once in a while to get him to rub her head.

However, they didn't walk very far for the first day, mainly due to the hobbits. The four little people, despite being hardy and quiet, had low endurance and couldn't walk for long distances without one or two stops along the way. By nightfall, the hobbits were exhausted. Hannas ran an eye over them and then lightly ran to the front of the line they'd formed unconsciously, where Aragorn and Gandalf were leading them.

"We need to stop," he said. "The little ones are exhausted."

Aragorn sighed. "I suppose we must," he said with a look up at the sun that had almost disappeared behind the horizon. "We would've needed to stop soon anyhow, and this is as good a place as any."

They made camp in the hollow of an old river bed, where they would be protected from the chilly wind that the night sometimes came with. Aragorn built a very small fire that gave off a light smoke so as not to attract attention. Hannas sat by it, staring into the flames with blank green eyes. All of the hobbits except for Frodo had gone to bed, and the rest of company was up as well. Gandalf, Gimli, and Frodo were both smoking pipes, while Aragorn, Legolas, and Hannas stared off at something in the distance, obviously lost in their thoughts. Lanae was curled up next to Hannas, bright eyes closed in a dozing sleep.

"Hannas?" Hannas jerked out of his daze when he heard Frodo's voice. He looked over to see bright blue eyes staring at him curiously from behind the long stem of a well-worn pipe. "Why were you imprisoned in Isenguard?"

Hannas tensed, and Gandalf gave Frodo a reproaching look. Frodo looked faintly shamed, but he continued to stare steadily at Hannas, waiting patiently for an answer.

"I . . . ." Hannas started, and then cleared his throat. "I went to Isenguard to figure out something that has puzzled me for many years," he said, after a long pause. "When Saruman found out what I was researching, he deemed me a _threat_ and had me locked up at the top of his tower." The bitterness in Hannas' voice was unmistakable.

"What were you researching?" Frodo asked with a hobbit's sharp curiosity.

Hannas sighed. "A very private matter that has puzzled me for years," he said quietly. He smoothed his hand over Lanae's head. "I have been trying to figure it out for a very long time." Frodo got the hint that Hannas gave him and fell silent. Gandalf looked at Hannas in concern, but the elf ignored him.

"Perhaps we should all get some rest," Legolas suggested quietly. "Hannas, would you like to take the first watch with me?"

Hannas nodded silently and moved over to where Legolas sat, perched on the edge of a gigantic log. Lanae stayed by the fire, apparently comfortable to sleep where she was. Hannas and Legolas listened to the sounds of the others moving around, getting ready to sleep.

"Aragorn, you and Boromir are next!" Hannas called out. Both men nodded as settled down for a few hours sleep.

Hannas and Legolas were silent together for a long time. By the time either of them spoke again, the entire Fellowship had fallen asleep, Gandalf included. Hannas was the one to break the silence.

"You don't have any questions for me, Legolas?" he asked, eyes moving up to the stars above him.

"No, Hannas," Legolas said, equally as serene. "I will admit I'm curious about how you ended up at Isenguard, and what your past was like, but I won't pry into it. It's not my business."

Hannas looked at him and smiled. "If only everyone thought like that," he said, with some amusement in his voice. "I think you're the first person that's told me that to my face." Green eyes darkened and turned away from Legolas' face. "My past is something that I hold dearly to my heart, Legolas," he said quietly. "I would appreciate it if no one questioned me on it anymore."

"I will tell the hobbits," Legolas said, understanding what Hannas was asking of him. "Frodo was simply curious about you," he added in. "Please don't hold it against him."

Hannas smiled. "How can I, when I know what it's like to be curious? I don't blame him for wanting to know." He sighed, and leaned back on his elbows, scanning the skies above. "What do you think of this quest, Legolas?"

"I think that it's dangerous," Legolas said. "But also that it is necessary. I only hope that we can protect this world for the evil that seeks to corrupt it."

"Yes, we all hope for that," Hannas murmured.

Silence fell between them once more, but neither truly minded. It was a silence of companionship. Minutes went by as the two elves sat, watchful in the dark, with only the stars to witness them there.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Firstly, I'd like to sincerely apologize for how long it took me to write and post this chapter. During the first part of this chapter (the scene with Legolas and Hannas) I got a tremendous bout of the dreaded writer's block that lasted for nearly several months. I hope that it won't happen again, as I do like this story and want to write it. Anyways! I hope you guys like this chapter as much as you did the first one (106 reviews, baby!). Also, once again I'm sorry for any mistakes dealing with the world of LotR. Like I said in the first chapter, it's not really my fandom and it's been several years since I've read the books and a few months since I've seen the movies, so my information is bound to be off. Now! Hope you enjoyed it, and please leave a review!

**(1)** La (night) –nae (whisper), or at least, as far as I know. So, put together, the name means "night whisper." Poetic, huh?


	3. THIS IS IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ

**THIS IS IMPORTANT. IF YOU'RE INTERESTED IN THE FUTURE OF THIS STORY, PLEASE READ.**

**Dear Readers,**

After much consideration, I've decided to re-vamp Away from the Sun. I still haven't decided whether I should take it down and post it as a new story under a different name or not, but over the next few weeks, I will be going through the chapters and editing them. In some places, the edits will be rather large. I know that some of you like this story, so if you want a copy of the original chapters, they will be untouched for the next week or so, if you want to copy them from here. Otherwise, the originals will be in my yahoo group, which is linked at the bottom of my profile.

Thanks again for your support of this story. I know some of you like it the way it is, but I've found that the writing and plotlines just aren't up to the standard I usually set for myself. It needs to be re-done.

EDIT: When I re-edit, I will post a new notice here. EVERYTHING WILL REMAIN THE SAME UNTIL I FINISH EDITING. When I finalize a date for the change, it will be posted in my profile underneath the summer schedule info.

Unwritten.25


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